


the good hurts

by beenana



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Getting Together, Hair-pulling, Haircuts, Justice For Movie!Brenda, Or First Non-Drugged Kiss Technically, Paradise, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 17:01:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13575000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beenana/pseuds/beenana
Summary: “You’re either cutting your hair or I’m French-braiding it out of your eyes.  You pick.”Brenda’s dead serious and Thomas grins to himself, weighing his options.  “Let’s cut it,” he decides, wrinkling his nose when he goes to comb his fingers through his hair and they get stuck.  “There’s so much salt in it, I don’t think you evencouldbraid it.”“Excellent.” There’s a loud click as Brenda pulls her pocket knife from her pants and flicks it open in one fell swoop.  “Don’t move.”In Paradise, haircuts have happy endings.





	the good hurts

**Author's Note:**

> confession: i've never read the books. i have, however, watched the movies a combined 30+ times and grew super attached to the characters, especially brenda. and when (death cure movie spoiler alert!) she didn't end up with thomas in the movie like she was supposed to, i took matters into my own hands. as you do.
> 
> only warnings are for swearing and pda.
> 
> i don't own anything...all characters and plotlines belong to james dashner and wes ball.

“You need a haircut.”

Thomas looks up from the window frame he’s trying to hammer together to see Brenda standing over him, her hands propped on her hips in mock reproach.  Or at least…he mostly sees her.  Half of her is obscured by the dirty shock of hair he can’t keep out of his eyes no matter how much salt water he tries to slick it back with.  It’s a trick he learned from Aris their first week in Paradise, but it stopped working months ago.  Now he’s mostly just crusty.

All that to say, Brenda is right.  He needs a haircut.

But he refuses to go down that easily, so he pushes the annoying mop out of his eyes and grins innocently up at her.  “I think _you_ need a haircut,” he says, gesturing at her dark hair that’s now hanging down past her shoulder blades in pretty bends and waves.  “What happened to my buzz cut girl?”

Brenda rolls her eyes.  “It was never a buzz cut,” she points out, unaffected by the _my girl_ hanging in the air.  Which is good because Thomas’ heart is beating hard enough for the both of them.

Shit.

“Enough about me,” Brenda declares, back to business.  She reaches down, offering him a hand to pull him to his feet.  He takes it, dusting the dirt off his pants.  “You’re either cutting it or I’m French-braiding it out of your eyes.  You pick.”

She’s dead serious and Thomas grins to himself, weighing his options.  “Let’s cut it,” he decides, wrinkling his nose when he goes to comb his fingers through his hair and they get stuck.  “There’s so much salt in it, I don’t think you even _could_ braid it.”

“Excellent.”  There’s a loud _click_ as Brenda pulls her pocket knife from her pants and flicks it open in one fell swoop.  Then she drags him over to a tree stump on the edge of the forest and pushes him down by the shoulders until he’s sitting on it.  “Don’t move.”

“You got it, boss.  Make me pretty.”

Something soft settles over Brenda’s face and her eyes flit away for a second before returning to lock with his.  “You’re already pretty,” she says, cheeks pinking up the slightest bit.  “Now I’ve just gotta cut your hair.”

Then she gets to work.

Thomas holds as still has possible, hissing through his teeth periodically when a particularly stubborn chunk of hair won’t give way to the knife and it feels like it’s being ripped out of his scalp.  It’s mostly manageable, but the hair at the base of his neck is sensitive and he finds himself yelping out loud as Brenda tries her damndest to saw through the knots.

“Sorry, sorry,” she apologizes from behind him, a gentle hand reaching forward to cup at his cheek in remorse.  Her thumb moves slowly up and down against his skin, trying to soothe him.  “It’s matted halfway to hell, dude…I don’t know how you’ve been able to stand it.”

“Do we not have _one_ pair of scissors on this fucking island?” Thomas grouses, waiting impatiently for the knife to leave his skull before his hand flies up to paw at the back of his neck.  Instead of the bald spot he expected, he finds hair shorn close to his skin, just like he used to wear it.  He’s more relieved than he’d like to admit.

“We don’t even have toilets,” Brenda says and Thomas can hear the eye-roll in her voice.  “I’ll tell Jorge to put scissors on the list.”  Then she snorts a laugh.  “And sunscreen, for you and all the rest of your pale-ass friends.”

“If the Cranks haven’t used it all up.”

“Oh my god, you’re so funny,” Brenda deadpans, coming around to stand in front of him, assessing her handiwork.  “We’ll take some off the front here—”  She ruffles his bangs.  “—and then you can go tell more jokes just like it!  Thirty-five miles away from me.”

Without waiting for a reply – it was probably just going to be _shut up!_ anyways – she kicks his feet apart so she can step into the V of his legs and starts in on his fringe.  By the time she’s finished, Thomas’s hands are on her hips and they’re both blushing bright red.  Brenda drops a handful of hair to the ground.

“There,” she whispers, smoothing his newly cut hair off his forehead.  Thomas tips his head back to look up at her, almost afraid to breathe.  “There’re your pretty eyes.”

His stomach flips and his fingers flex against her hips.  “Brenda,” he says raggedly.  “Brenda, I—”

She shakes her head quickly.  Then, taking a deep breath like she’s gathering her courage, she climbs into his lap, hooking her arms around his neck.  “You talk too much,” she tells him and then she kisses him.

Thomas responds immediately, pulling her in close and letting his lips part when she licks at them.  It’s not their first kiss, but it might as well be.  The one in Marcus' club, drugged off their asses and Thomas’s heart set on someone else, hardly counted.  But Thomas isn’t thinking of Teresa now.  Not even slightly.

Brenda is, though.

She pulls away much too soon, her eyebrows knitting together in uncertainty.  “Was that okay?” she asks, an absurd question considering the way Thomas is literally _aching_ to get his mouth on her again.  “I know I’m not her, but—”

Thomas cuts her off, tapping her gently on the lips with his forefinger.  “You talk too much,” he teases, then hooks her hair behind her ear so he can lean back in and kiss her.  She giggles against his lips, all worries gone, and Thomas’ entire body goes warm.

This is where he’s supposed to be.

The discovery should shake him, probably, but instead it grounds him and he lets everything melt away except the beautiful girl in his lap and the residual stinging at the base of his hairline.  It still hurts a bit, but it’s a good hurt.  It’s a hurt that brought him here, so it’s okay.  If there’s one thing he’s learned in the past year, it’s that hurts can give way to amazing things.

It’s something he’s learning to accept.

They kiss until they’ve had enough, humming into each other’s mouths and curious fingers dancing at bare hipbones beneath shirt hems.  When they pull away, Brenda’s mouth is red and she grins at him, reaching over to scratch her nails through the coarse hair on his chin.  “You’re prickly,” she says, swiping her hand across her lips.  “It kinda burns.”

“Ah, sorry,” Thomas says sheepishly, ducking his head.  “Maybe we can cut my beard, too.”

“Nah,” Brenda says decisively.  She smiles and it’s like the first rays of sun in the morning, bleeding out into the ocean.  “I think I like it.”

Overwhelmed, Thomas buries his face in her neck, blushing hot.  Because he likes _lots_ of things, but he thinks he likes this best of all.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!


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